


Happy AU Drabbles: Scenes From A Long-ass Quarantine

by RogueRebel96, TaraLy



Series: Happy AU [1]
Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: AU, Drabble, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Happy AU, Humor, Love, Mild Smut, Romance, i'm serious this is disgustingly cheesy, if you don't like fluff please run as fast as you can, my god so much love, yes they are married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueRebel96/pseuds/RogueRebel96, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLy/pseuds/TaraLy
Summary: Some glimpses into an Alternate Universe where their stars are aligned, everything is right and they have a happy ending with each other.2020 Quarantine Edition.
Relationships: Gillian Anderson/David Duchovny
Series: Happy AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718515
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	1. Alone time together

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of quarantine at the lake house.

She's outside, on the grass meditating. Well, Nelson is there too, sleeping in the sunshine next to her. Her husband is inside doing his things, maybe reading, writing, or even meditating like her as well. This morning she decided she needs some alone time. Their kids have gone to the field nearby to play catch with Brick.

After a while she starts missing him. She really can't be apart from him for too long these days. She's about to get up to go inside when a big shadow looms over her, and seconds later a big square head lands on her left thigh. She laughs, stretches her legs out to let him puts his head properly on her lap as he intertwines their fingers.  


"Hey love"

"Hey darling. Comfortable?"

He close his eyes, kisses her palm and hums in agreement. 

"Where's my boy Nelson?"

"Over here. He loves sleeping in the sun." She says, scoops her ugly boy up and puts him on her pretty one's chest. He hugs the dog with his free arm and murmurs:

"Wife?"

"Yes, husband?"

"I know you want to be alone but can we be alone together? I promise I'll keep quiet."

"It's alright," she scratches his hair, "I was about to go join you anyway."

"Miss me already?"

"In your dreams. I just want some snack."

He pulls out a chocolate bar from his pocket, presses it on her cheek. She giggles, bends down to kiss his forehead.

"I knew I married you for a reason."

Their conversation then turns into a peaceful silence, just watching the clouds pass by in the warm sun of March. Birds are chirping somewhere from the tree line at the other side of the lake. He suddenly has a flash of memory, a scene to be exact. A forest at night, she held him almost just like this, and...

"Sing something." He says, hoping she would get the reference.

"What?"

"Sing anything." He turns his face into her belly. 

"You're the musician here. You sing. I don't want to scare the birds."

She doesn't remember. But it's alright, tonight he'll put Detour on.

"You're not that bad. I love The Sandman. Sing that."

"It's been a year. I don't even know if I still remember the lyrics."

"Liar. I heard you in the shower this morning."

She pinches his ear.

"...Fine."


	2. Family Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 2 quarantine at the lake house and everyone is a little on edge.

She doesn’t know what has woken her. The room is still dark since he closed the blinds before going downstairs, but she can still feel the sunlight peeking through behind her eyelids. Then she smells it, the unmistakable smell of his famous egg fried rice, with bacon and, oh, sausage too. Her stomach rumbles immediately, like every other reaction of her body toward something, anything about him. For a moment she considers sleeping in, knowing he’ll come up later and bring her breakfast along. But then she hears her daughters’ laugh. Breakfast in bed surely can’t compare to breakfast with her family.

She gets up slowly, puts on her jumper and shorts which she picks from the drawers. Well, his shorts. His, hers, what’s the difference? After a while, she emerges from the bathroom, still half-awake, not even bother to tame her bedhead and steps down to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she says, and five mouths full of fried rice say it back to her.

He’s standing at the stove in sweatpants and a gray hoodie, with his pans of fried rice and sausage. It smells even better in here. She walks into his outstretched arm, hugs him in the middle and he kisses her hair, stop stirring to offer her a mug of Chai. 

“Mornin’ babe,” 

“Mmm,” she sips her tea, her eyes fluttering shut in contentment.

“Do you have any interest in my fried rice, or you want muesli as usual?” he asks, turning back to the stove.

“Hush you. I woke up because of your food, I’ll have them all,” she chuckles, rubs her face on his firm bicep. 

“Oh and by the way, Felix just confessed something important to me. I think you should hear it directly from him.”

“Hmm? What is it?” She looks up at him, but he’s arching one of his brows at their youngest child. She turns her eyes to the table and sees Felix is stuffing his breakfast in his mouth, refusing to look at her. Oscar also seems guilty, but the older kids - Piper, Miller, and West - are obviously trying not to laugh. 

“Felix, what’s wrong?” she asks, starting to worry.

David senses her change of mood and decides to spare her any further worry. “Last night he and Oscar ate your chocolate lava cake,” he says.

“What?” She blinks, “That giant cake I’ve been saving? The whole thing?” 

“Yep. Nothing left but a dirty dish for me to wash this morning.”

She puts one of her hands over her chest in mock shock. “I think I’m gonna faint.” Piper laughs.

She pouts, pretends to be mad just to tease her son. “Not a spoon left?”

“That’s a payback, you said you were going to watch Star Wars with us but last night you made us go to bed early. We couldn’t sleep and got bored.”

“And you think some sweets would help you with that?” she tries to mask her blush as anger. Last night both of them were in a steamy mood and nearly couldn’t make it to their room before ripping each other’s clothes off after they cancelled the movie night. Guess she deserves this.

Before Felix gets to say anything else, Oscar chimes in to help his brother. “Yeah! But not just the two of us, Piper and West and Miller ate it too!" 

“We’re sorry mom, Oscar and I took it out of the fridge and all of us shared.” Felix pouts. “They said if we take the blame, they’d do our schoolwork for us.”

“That’s your son,” David whispers in her ear. “The ways he pouts is exactly like you.” She smiles behind her mug.

“You snitches!” Miller points his fork at the boys. “Don’t come and beg us to do your literature homework after this.”

“Traitors,” Gillian gasps, it’s her turn trying not to laugh now. “I expected more from you grown-ups!”

“Yeah, well, next time don’t ditch us for the birds and bees again Gillybean,” Piper smirks. That causes a full-blown reaction all over the kitchen. Oscar and Felix go “YIKES!” at the same time, Miller grimaces at her while West covers her ears and yells, “Too far Pip! Too far!!”. David turns off the stove to hug an embarrassed Gillian with both of his hands. She hides her tomato-red face in his chest.

When things have cooled down a bit and everybody goes back to their breakfast, David glares at the kids in a half-serious way and sighs, “Trust your old man, kids, that cake is very rich and soon y'all will get fat!”

“Wow, scary,” West comments, doesn’t realize Gillian is stealing her bacon onto her plate.

“We’re going to make your mother a new cake and that attitude won’t help,” He puts another fried egg onto Gillian's plate before sitting down next to her. 

“Wait, really?” Gillian looks at him with wide eyes, “That’s not necessary honey, I don’t mind at all and we’d better save our food since we can only go to the grocery store once a week.”

“But I want to make up to you anyway. I made you cancel the movie night,” he traces his knuckles across her cheek and puts some of her stray hair behind her ear, lowers his voice in the last part.

“You can help our two rascals over there homeschooling,” she winks at Felix then drops a kiss on the edge of David's lips, her heart filled with love for her family.

She ends up making a batch of chocolate pudding with their daughters for the real movie night later that day, while her husband and Miller struggle with junior high projects. She still got her share of sweets, albeit much smaller and not made by a professional pastry chef, but there is a lot of fun in it and she finds herself having nothing to complain about.


	3. The voice in my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One quiet noon at the lake house

The guitar strings vibrate beneath his fingers, release a sweet tune to the quiet living room at noon. Sunlight flickers through the glass door and spreads along the wooden floor, stops in front of his feet. He absentmindedly strums his instrument, then as if remembers something, he lets his head fall back against the cushion to look at the sleeping form of his wife behind him on the couch. Her head pillowed on one of her hands and her mouth slightly open. Her hair smells like lavender and still damp from the shower. Long, honey-yellow streaks almost go over her shoulders now. He smiles as he thinks about the reason why they both had to take a shower in the middle of the day.

Earlier in the morning, a family of ducks decided to swim in the small lake. As the first duck landed on the water surface, Brick delightfully barked and bolted into the water with a splash. Nelson went right after. For two little dogs, they sure are good swimmers. When David ran outside, mother duck was fighting with Brick and he had no choice but to wade through the water to rescue the poor bastard. But he was outnumbered and before he calls out for the kids to come help, he saw Gillian already wading towards him while calling at Nelson and cursing. Thankfully the lake isn't too deep and after some struggles, they managed to bring both excited dogs back on the ground. The kids looked at their parents - soaking wet, lying on the warm grass holding their dogs while laughing their lungs out - and pretended to ignore them.  


They bathed Brick and Nelson together, then showered together as well. Gillian got tired after all of these activities and when she finished her big lunch, she crashed down the couch and fell into a deep slumber, all relaxed and comfortable. That was an hour ago. 

He considers climbing on the couch and cuddling her but something nags at him, saddens him. So instead he stays on the floor with his guitar. Another tune flows, this time sounds like an echo from the past, a cry of regret. He plays another, then another, and when he's almost lost in his own mind, suddenly her voice startles him, pulls him back:

"Why are you still playing sad songs?"

Once again he turns around, and he sees a pair of ocean eyes looking back at him. Ocean eyes that make him want to cry and drown in them at the same time. A spot of sunlight gently kisses her cheek and her freckles look like constellations sparkling across her face. She looks so beautiful, so ethereal, it makes his heart ache. Her head tilts slightly, waiting for his answer. He chooses his words carefully.

"It's for...lost times."

The curious gleam disappears as her eyes soften. She doesn't have to ask whose lost times it was for. It's theirs. Of course, it's theirs. There were so many missed opportunities that they could never take back. She sighs, scoots closer to the edge of the couch and touches his face with one hand. He leans into her touch instinctively.

"I just had a dream about one of those times, too," she confesses, her hand moves to stroke his hair. "But we're here now. We made it. That's what matters."

He nods, falls in love with her a little bit more, and feels the very need to voice it out loud. "Love you," he whispers.

She smiles that bright smile like every time he tells her he loves her, like it's the first time, even though they have been married for 4 years, then lifts her head and presses her lips to his.

"Go back to playing possum. I'll stay here," he says when they part.

"You'd better be."

She lays down, closes her eyes and keeps stroking his hair. Sleep comes easier whenever she does that, it works better than any sleep app she has on her phone. And he knows it. He sets his guitar back into his lap, and music continues to dance around the almost empty living room, except for the two people in the middle of it, like two residents of a desert island. Some random, but a happier, more spring-like melody.


	4. From Up On A Lake House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie night!!

"No way. I'm not going to watch Avengers: Infinity War for the 5th time." Piper declares.

"You have no taste," Oscar groans, turns over to Miller and Felix standing by the microwave, watching their popcorn intently. "Back me up, bros."

"Don't get me wrong, I love the movie, but this time I have to agree with Pip. We've watched it way too many times," Miller says.

"Me too. I start to get bored with it and I don't want to lose interest in it," Felix chimes in.

"Start to?" West asks incredulously.

"I give up," Oscar throws his hand up, stretches out on the couch. "I don't know what to watch anymore. You guys choose."

"Oh, we get to choose now?" Gillian teases, sits down at the other end of the couch, next to his feet. "How about Tiger King? Netflix recommended it for me but I keep forgetting about it."

"Hey, me too!" West exclaims. "It looks very intriguing to me."

"I watched all of it only 3 days ago. Very good indeed," Piper nods in approval. "I don't mind watching it again. How about you?" She looks over to Miller from the kitchen table and he just shrugs, opens the microwave to take the popcorn out and put butter on. 

"We've talked about this!" Felix grumbles. "No---"

"---documentaries on family movie night," all four grown-ups say at once. Gillian sighs, then looks towards the stairs at the footsteps of David bringing them blankets and extra pillows. He walks to the couch, drops everything onto Oscar's lap and gets an "oof" from the boy. Gillian giggles.

"So, what are we gonna watch for tonight?" David asks her, locks their fingers together and swings their arms back and forth .

"We haven't decided yet," she shakes her head. "Oscar here wants to watch Infinity War," she tickles his feet with her other hand to make him sit up and make space. "The girls and I want to watch a docuseries but you know the rules."

"I got it!" Miller announces delightfully. "It: Chapter Two."

"Are you serious?" Gillian immediately turns to him. "Forget it, I still have chills from Us."

"But that was 3 weeks ago!" Miller's eyes widen. "Wow, you really are not good with scary movies. That surprised me every time." He divides popcorn into two bowls and passes one over to Gillian. She makes a face at him.

"Not funny, pal, it gave her nightmares and my ribs have reached its limit." David points out. He remembers that horror disaster as clear as day. She spent most of that night hiding her face in his chest and pillows, and he tried his best to make her feel less scared by cracking jokes at and making funny comments on the movie. She did laugh along with the rest of them, but somehow still haunted by every single scary scene in it. She has insisted that they have to sleep with the bathroom lights on for 3 nights straight, with both Brick and Nelson in bed.

"Do you have something in mind?" Gillian asks him.

"Hmm," he scratches his chin, lips pucker as he thinks. "There is something I want to watch, it could fit all of us."

"Yeah? What is it?" she asks, drags one of the blankets to cover her feet.

"Well, do you know that Netflix recently added almost every movie from Studio Ghibli to their platform?" He takes the folded blanket from Gillian, casually opens it and wraps it around her like a giant burrito. "I checked this morning and saw all the movies that you voiced for are available. I've never got the chance to watch them."

"Oh no, please don't," Gillian protests, takes an arm out of the blanket to pulls him down next to her. "I sounded terrible in both of them, it's embarrassing!"

"I'm sure you're good," he brings his "burrito" close, kisses her cheek, then her nose. "Besides, we can always change the audio into Japanese if you want. Hmm?" It takes a few more kisses for her to be convinced and she snuggles into his chest, picking at their popcorn bowl, now lying on his lap. 

"What do you say?" David asks the kids.

"Sure, I love their movies," West says, pulls Piper along and joins them on the couch.

"If we're going to make it triple features, I want to watch Howl's Moving Castle. I adore that one." Felix says.

"That's what I call good taste," Piper ruffles her brother's hair.

Miller and Oscar mumble in agreement as Davids presses start on Princess Mononoke. They watch it in English and cheer whenever Gillian's character - The Wolf Queen - appears on the screen. At first, she blushes, hearing her younger self trying to recreate the Japanese voice actor's gravelly voice, but then ends up reciting her lines in the claps of her biggest fans. When the movie ends, they move on to From Up On Poppy Hill. Miller makes a comment about her playing another doctor, just to earn a handful of popcorn she throws at him. As the movie goes on, the night is also getting later and later. One by one fell asleep at the movie's peaceful rhythm, but David stays up, despite that Gillian's screentime is over long ago and her body sags against him, and he remains the only person awake when the melancholic song about a farewell summer comes up at the end. He turns off the tv and lights, wakes the kids up to go to their rooms, then gathers Gillian in his arms, the blanket still wrapped around her. 

He carries her upstairs, can't help but feel amazed that he's still able to lift her with that much ease, despite the fact that he's pushing sixty. Maybe it has something to do with his protective nature towards her, ever since their first year working together, he thinks as he tucks her in. However, his movements are maybe not as graceful as before, because she stirs awake.

"Shhh, just me. Go back to sleep," he kisses her forehead.

She hums sleepily, then asks. "How was the movie?"

"It's great. I love your voice," he whispers against her hair, snakes an arm around her waist. 

"You hear my voice every day. It doesn't bore you?"

"Not ever. You should do this again someday, Gilly." he says softly, then gets up, "Nature calls. Sleep, I'll be right back."

"Mmm," is her only reply.


	5. Hanabi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love, lots of sparkles

She finds him sitting on their bed, back to the headboard, reading when she enters. Amused, she leans on the doorframe and watches him closely. After all these years, she still can't get enough of him. She doubts she ever will. 

As if feeling her intense gaze, he looks up. 

"See something you like?" He asks, an old pick-up line but Gillian giggles nonetheless, shaking her head slightly in a "what am I going to do without you" way. He marks his book then reaches out an arm towards her. She gracefully moves from the door to slide onto his lap, straddles him.

"Oh, very." She chooses the truth instead of some witty banter like usual, sometimes she just wants to tell him how much she appreciates his body. More than he thinks she does. Plus, she has some plans for him tonight. She dips her head to kiss him, and he eagerly meets her halfway. The way they do. 

She wraps her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss. He grunts, one hand caressing her thigh oh-so-tenderly and the other slips into her hair, brings her impossibly closer. A moan escapes her mouth, then swallowed by his. She clenches her thighs around his hips, fingers claw at the fabric on his back. Their bodies rub against each other wantonly but no one wants to rush, they both enjoy this makeout session so much, now that they have all the time in the world.

But as soon as his hand moves from her hair to the sash of her robe, there's a dull crackling sound echoes from somewhere in the backyard.

"What was that?" She interrupts their kiss, tilts her head to listen.

"My flashlight." He nuzzles her neck, still drowned in her warmth and smell and oblivious to the world.

"No, not that!" She grabs both sides of his head to stop him, right when another crack appears, louder than the last one, along with some sizzling sound. This time he hears it too.

"Doesn't that sound like fireworks?" 

Another crack, a pop, then light flickers through the blinds, definitely from the backyard. Someone hollers, and they sound a lot like Miller.

"Oh my god!" Gillian gets off his lap and runs to open the window, sticks her head out to see five humans standing around a small can of fireworks sparkling in the darkness. 

"Kids? Where did you get those from?"

"Hey Mom!" Felix exclaims, his voice shrill with excitement. "We bought this on our Japan trip last year. Never got a chance to light them."

"Best purchase ever!" West throws her hands up to wave at their parents. "Come down here, we're about to try the handheld ones!"

"We only have a few big ones left. Hurry up!" Miller lights another. 

"What do you think?" David joins Gillian at the window, looking down at the small tribe with fondness though he's not sure if she loves the idea. And to his surprise, she shouts:

"I'm coming! Save me some! Oh and Piper, go get your camera." As everyone cheers, she turns and takes his hand, pulls him along effortlessly, almost as giddy as their kids. The rebel she is. He forgets to sulk about being interrupted. 

They stand on the porch holding several fireworks sticks (she likes the tingly feeling when its spark hits her skin). He remembers they are called "senko hanabi" in Japanese, but with a very warm, very soft, very happy Gillian in his arms, the wrinkles on her eyes shone by golden lights, he couldn't care less. Her body shakes with laughter as the boys dance around fireworks cans and his heart swells with the love he has for her. No fireworks show can be as bright, as colourful, or as glowing as the woman beside him. She is his fireworks. 

"David, look!" She gasps when Oscar shoots fireworks from a long tube up to the sky above. "So beautiful!"

"Yeah." He nods, his eyes never leaving her. 

"You're not even looking." She glances at him, her cheeks flushed.

"I am." He closes the distance between their lips, his arms tighten around her. She smiles into the kiss. Sparks fly around them.

Piper lowers her camera, chuckles to herself. She's got the best photo of this remarkable night.


	6. Deep and Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much for keeping this under the G rate.

Heavy raindrops thump against the window, drip from the roof, spreading a blurring layer over the dim yellow light from their bedroom. 

One of his hands is on her left breast, the other kneading her buttocks while she hovers above him, moving up and down languidly. Somehow in the low light, her curves seem to be emitting a soft glow, glistening with sweat and his saliva when he traces them with open-mouth kisses. The sound of rain and night creatures around the house completely mute their pants and soft moans to the outside world. They mean it for no one else but each other. 

At one point, he sits up, brings her other breast into his mouth, their pelvis press together. Her movements become more erratic, she chants his name in the sweetest way and he grunts his appreciation.

"That's it. That's it, baby. I've got you."

He holds her as she writhes and quivers around him, brings one hand down to where they're joined. Her pupils dilate, her body goes rigid and he hungrily swallows her mewls.

She sags against him, their foreheads touch. When they part, a thin silver string stretches between their lips. He looks up, a pair of blue, blue eyes sparkling back at him. Her eyes ground him, guide him. Even in his darkest nights. Those starry eyes.

"So beautiful."

She only smiles, with him still buried deep inside, and rolls her hips in a way that forces all of his breaths out of his lungs. She resumes her movements and starts to ride him in earnest until he could have sworn that he forgot his own name if she didn't whimper it into his ears in pleasure.

Later, when her sated body drapes across his and her even breathing warms his chest, he whispers, as his hand slowly strokes her silky hair:

"I've never loved anything, anyone as much as you."


	7. 2020520

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Instagram manips of Gillovny + GALips and subtle flirting

He just finished posting a new selfie to Instagram, still wearing the T-shirt with a drawing of Gillian's lips on it. Almost immediately, he sees her name appearing next to the heart symbol. So he turns to the giddy woman lying next to him in bed and wiggles his eyebrows:

"So I take it that I look good with your lips on mine?"

She snorts, swats his arm playfully.

"That's the only pair of lips you are allowed to have on yours, old man."

Then suddenly she squints at the screen, and nudges him with her elbow.

"Hey, what are the numbers you put at the end of your caption? 2020520?"

"It's today. May 20th, 2020." He shrugs.

She narrows her eyes.

"Who on earth puts dates like that? Come one, spill it out. I know you, you wouldn't put it right next to my name if it didn't mean anything."

"It's silly. Just a fact I learned when I look for writing materials."

She moves to put her head on his lap, her cute little feet dangling off the bed. 

"Tell me anyway. It's about me, right?" She pouts. 

He can't help it and boops her nose with his index finger, makes it wrinkles adorably. 

"Okay. In China, May 20th is the Online Valentine's Day. It's kind of a pop culture thing, because 520 in Chinese has a similar pronunciation to 'I love you'," he starts to explain, feeling a blush creeping onto his neck and ears. "5 is 'I', 2 is 'love', and 0 is 'you'. But this year makes it more special."

"How?"

"Well," he leans towards her, "It's 2020520, so it would be 'love you'," he kisses her forehead, "'love you'," then her nose.

She pulls his head down to capture his full lips, continues in a low murmur.

"...I love you."

"Exactly."


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call from the States makes Gillian wonder. Plus Gillovny & domesticity

She's perched on the kitchen counter while her husband is chopping vegetables next to her, preparing lunch. More than once, she has asked him if he needs her help with anything, and every time he's replied that he only needs her to taste the final result. So she stays to keep him company. They talk about nothing and everything; the news, the book she's reading, which wall should they paint next,... At one point, the kitchen falls into silence as she watches spots of daylight dancing on the sink under the window, reflect on David's eyes wrinkles. The sight is achingly peaceful, and she finds a new determination to make it last, not unlike the one she found in their reunion seven years ago. She vaguely remembers he once said that he would never, ever cook, or he would never eat anything he cooks. But he's learned to cook, for her and their family. Ever her dearest man. Now he's the family's chef, his skills are even better than her in some dishes. And once in a while, he would try recreating some of their favourites, which is what he's doing. 

"Oh, Téa said hi," he suddenly speaks, as if it just occurred to him. 

"Oh? How is she?"

"She's fine. She called this morning when you and Piper had gone to the grocery store. She's bored as hell but cheered up a lot after talking with West and Miller. And I'm glad Tim is there keeping her company." he shrugs.

"She must be missing them terribly," she sighs, picks at her nails, "I'm so happy that West and Miller are here with us, but god, they have been far from home for too long and I... I can't help feeling guilty." 

He stops dipping carrot pieces into frying batter, wipes his hands on the blue apron he's wearing and steps between her legs, reaches out to hold her hips.

"Hey now, what are you talking about? Yes, their home is back there with Téa, but it also is here with us. Have you ever seen for one second that they blame you for being here but not the States?"

She bumps her forehead at his chest, shaking slightly but seems unconvinced. To be honest, she's been thinking this for some time. He chuckles, drops feather-light kisses to her hair.

"Honey, you know they love you, right? And they know you love them just as much," he pulls back to cup her face in his large hands, feeling his stomach flips at how easily she leans to his touch. Her mouth still turns downwards but her arms come around his waist as he steps in closer, tucks her to his chest, her chin on his shoulder. 

"My Gilly has the biggest heart I've ever known. I'm more than sure that Téa trusts you completely to keep them safe here until it's over."

She relaxes, rubbing her cheek against his. "Thank you," her voice sounds small and sweet. He squeezes her once, then lets her go and turns back to his neglected ingredients.

For a long while silence falls between them again, except when Gillian's stomach growls at the sizzling sound and heavenly smell of frying shrimps. She's munching on one when Miller wanders in to find snack. 

"What smells so good in here? Are you making tempura?" He peers over David's shoulder to look at the content in the pan.

"Yes, today we eat like kings."

"Can I try one first?" He spies the shrimp on Gillian's hand.

"No. Grab your snack and go wait like anyone who isn't my wife."

"Knew it," his eyes narrow at Gillian swallowing the rest of her tempura, although he's smirking. He looks around, then spots the vegetable tray waiting to be fried and stops.

"What are those okras doing here? Gillian hates okra, remember?" He says, matter-of-factly. David smiles at Gillian's direction, who's raising her iconic left eyebrow. 

"Who says they are for Gillian? There are seven people here, you know."

"Right, that's...okay," Miller scratches his hair in the same way as his dad does when he gets flustered. Gillian ducks her chin to her chest and tries not to giggle. "Um, Piper said you bought that honey-buttered walnut?"

"Over there, second door," she replies, points at the shelves. 

"Thanks."

"But save me some! I only bought two packs." She pokes at his shoulder when he opens the fridge to get his drink. Miller gives her a thumb up then heads out. 

"He still remembers," She whispers to herself, her smile wide.

David turns to give her lips a peck. 

"Told ya."


	9. Perhaps Rain Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gillovny, rain, scents, and classic Japanese literature. Also known as escapism.

Two warm hands cover her shoulders from behind, gently massage the knots she doesn't know she has on her neck. She leans back on the wooden bench, groans in pleasure. He chuckles lightly and glances at her green-covered book.

"Good one?" he asks.

"So far," she hums, "Did you finish your new song?" He's been in the newly painted "studio" almost all day, working on that. 

"I did. I'm going to take Brick for a walk, want to join us?" 

She looks up and beyond the porch, notices the sky from afar has turned completely grey with dark and heavy clouds. 

"Now? Seems like it's going to rain."

"I can still see the sun over here," he squints, "We'll be back in time."

She considers while Brick sniffs her feet. She bends down to scratch his ears, then says, more to the dog than David.

"I think I'll pass, sorry baby," she pouts, "Mommy's feet are sore from painting the wall this morning."

David circles the bench and crouches in front of her. He's afraid he wouldn't be able to stand up if he sits down, and that has nothing to do with age. She's just really good at keeping him. Besides, Brick will totally be a pain in the ass tonight if he doesn't get his walk. He lifts one of her feet to his chest.

"How about a foot massage when I'm done with Brick?"

"Hurry back," she wiggles her toes at him, a naughty glint in her eyes.

He stands up, kisses her cheek and whistles to call Brick. Brick immediately leaves Gillian's hands to follow his dad eagerly. She watches them walk along the small lake for a while before returning to her book. The mystery woman recites a poem to the main character, which catches her attention.

 __"A faint clap of thunder  
Clouded skies  
Perhaps rain comes  
If so, will you stay here with me?" __

A small smile stretches her lips. "Talk about timing," she whispers to herself.

Her reading was uninterrupted, and she doesn't know how much time has passed until it suddenly pours, startles her. It's not a few warning drops to begin with, but as if the Niagara Falls is coming down from above the house. And David still hasn't come back yet.

"Shit!" she puts the book down and jumps to her feet, steps out to the edge of the stairs, straining her eyes to find him through the rain curtain. He doesn't bring an umbrella with him and the nearest house is five minutes away. She's about to go fetch an umbrella and find him when she spots two shapes running to the house, a big one and a tiny one. As they come closer, she can hear David shouting: "Run, boy, run!" at Brick, who already sprinting as fast as his little feet allow. She quickly steps aside when Brick launches himself up the porch and bolts inside through the dog door like a fluffy tornado.

She expects David to slow down at the other end of the stairs but instead he barrels right into her and wraps her in his arms. She shrieks as her dry body makes contact with his soaking one, slapping his forearm. The rumble vibrates from his chest when he laughs is almost like thunder.

"Fuck, cold! Davidddd!" She laughs along, her feet leave the ground. She ends up standing on his feet with her arms around his torso, despite her words and the cold rain that is seeping from his clothes to hers. When their laugh subsides, she pulls away just enough to look at him, his wet hands move to cup her face like giant earmuffs. As if somebody just turns the radio volume to the left, the sound of rain around her feels somehow distant. This reminds her of those unbreathable days when she held his hands in a death grip, pressing them to her ears so tight it hurts, wanting desperately to block the noises pounding within and around her while tears staining his palms like rain at the moment. She blinks a few times to chase away the unpleasant memory and looks up.

"Hey," his smile is soft with utter adoration.

"Hi," she smiles back, knowing he would see that same adoration on her face.

"How about we go inside and continue this in the shower?" He tilts his head towards the door. "Get us out of these wet clothes and warm you up?"

"Sounds lovely. But let's stay here for another minute," she replies, pulling him closer, "Not for long, I promise."

"Aren't you cold?" he puts his arms back around her.

"Not anymore," she mumbles, nose pressed to his neck. "You?"

"No."

She closes her eyes and inhales. He smells of rain, of grass, the faint scent of lavender from her body wash, and his own scent. In another way, she's engulfed in her most favourite scents, all in one person and she's more than happy to forget about everything else and just smell him.

"You smell like me," she turns her head and whispers into his ear, sends a shiver down his spine. He chuckles, tightens his grip on her hips.

"You branded me, Anderson. And I'm so fucking aroused right now."

"Not so fast, you still owe me a foot massage."

"Then what are you waiting for? Lead me to our bed and let me pay my debt!"

The door closes behind them with the unmistakable sound of her giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem in this chapter is an English translation of an old "tanka", which is a kind of poetry in Japan. This tanka was taken from Manyōshū vol. 11 and was used by Shinkai Makoto in his work "Garden of Words", an animated feature and also a novel, which is the book Gillian was reading. But it's only the first half, the second half is the guy’s answer to his lover's question:
> 
> __A faint clap of thunder  
>  Even if rain comes not  
> I will stay here,  
> Together with you. __


	10. Golden Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what this is. It's not even good. I just need something peaceful to comfort myself.  
> Gillovny being an old successful married couple seems to be the best solution.

He returns to the back porch, two glasses of ice tea in his hands. He passes one to Gillian, then sits down by her side on the big hammock hanged between two wooden posts.

He leans slightly into her. "I'm running out of things to do. Who would have thought we would still be here in June?"

"I'm going to try and make a new pie tomorrow," she kisses his shoulder, "Wanna help me?"

He snorts, glances at their cards scattered on the floor. They were playing poker and the loser has to go get drinks. The cookies make them thirsty.

When he doesn't reply, she wraps her hand around his elbow. "Just a few more weeks, I think." She watches a bush of sunflowers swaying in the light breeze, rests her chin on his upper arm. "I like it here now, though. I do miss my job, but here I have my privacy, the kids,...I have you, we are all safe, and that's good enough."

"When you put it like that, it does sound good." He smiles, puts his glass down to scoop her legs onto his lap. She chuckles, kisses his beauty spot then picks up the cards.

"If I beat you on this round, you will have to buy the ingredients for my pie. Agree?"

He pokes her nose. "But if I win? What do I get?" His eyes narrow at her smug look. "Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky this time!"

She taps her upper lip with her index finger, considering. Finally, she decides. "If you win, I'll change my profile picture on Twitter to that photo you took last week while I was sleeping."

"Ah, ah, not the one with wildflowers in your hair." He raises a hand to stop her. "The one after that, when I draw cat whiskers on your face with Piper's marker."

She sighs, wonders if all of this is worth a grocery trip. "...fine."

"Deal." He grins brightly.


	11. The Outcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a continuation of the previous chapter

_Gilly,  
I'm going to the grocery store now (don't worry, I already put my mask on), but don't think I didn't know you used your kisses to seduce me in our final match yesterday, you know damn well I was WINNING. Who on earth wouldn't be fond of those lips, I wonder. Cheater. Anyways, enjoy your breakfast, I would be back in no time and have you as mine._

_Love,_  
_D_  
_P/s: check your phone_

She finds the note on her nightstand, next to her breakfast tray and smirks in amusement, holds it close to her lips for a moment. Sipping her lukewarm tea, she reaches for her phone. There's a new text from him with another photo of her sleeping in the dim daylight, on her back with her mouth slightly open. He must be awake long before she is. She rolls her eyes fondly when she spots two little red hearts on each side of her face, drawn with her lipstick. Apparently her dear husband has learned his lesson about using markers on her. The steam from her mug grazes her cheeks as she thinks about how she would have him when he returns. 

At the grocery store, David's phone tings while he's choosing potatoes for her cottage pie, and he opens it to see a selfie of Gillian in their bed, wearing nothing but his doodle and looking radiant as ever.


	12. June brings her glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer suits her well, he muses to himself.

When he finally talked her out of playing possum and changed her state from horizontal into vertical, they go out for a walk. Through the garden to the green field nearby, their clasped hands swing between them as they talk about nothing and everything. He's telling her about what his kids used to believe when they were younger. 

"I carried her on my shoulder, and she waved at the sky, out of the blue she said: 'If you're feeling down, just go outside! When the wind blows, it is the earth patting your head.'" He pats his own head as if to demonstrate. 

She makes an "aww" and chuckles, squeezes his hand a little. He tugs her closer, their shoulders almost touch. His eyes never leave her, even if he wants to. And why would he want to do such an absurd thing? 

Summer suits her well, he muses to himself. Her skin is glowing, her freckles are blooming, crying for his lips to memorize every one of them, old and new. The hem of her sundress floats around her knees in small waves with each step. She bought a few dresses like this and has been wearing them a lot since June begins. He barely knows anything about fashion, but he knows he likes this dress and more than once was caught ogling her legs and thighs when she lays down and her dress hitches up. 

He doesn't realize he is staring at her until his steps falter when a summer breeze whisks by, and, like a gentle hand, lingers on the loose strands fall out of her ponytail. She turns to him, her clear, blue eyes look like crystal under the sun, her lips stretch as she teases him:

"Tired already, old man?"

Any witty comment he has in mind is gone with the wind, and he just blurts: 

"You are so beautiful." 

To his surprised, she actually blushes at his lame compliment, looking painfully adorable. He can't help it anymore, he's sure that if his heart explodes right now, she'll find rainbows in it. He cups her face in his large hands and kisses her freckles hello. She sighs happily, as if has been expecting this, and melts into him. He smothers her face in kisses then rubs his nose against hers, while she closes her eyes and practically purrs. His hands slide down her waist to embrace her at the same time she moves to put her chin on his chest. So soft and sweet, all his.

"I'm hot," she says.

"Yes, you are."

She hits him with her chin. "Let's go back. I'm hungry."

"You just had breakfast!" he checks his watch. "It's only half past nine."

"Excuse you, my small breakfast isn't for this kind of activity," she nearly whines, "And we are thirty minutes away from home. I'd be famished when we get there."

"Well," he laughs, kisses her sweaty neck, "We can't let that happen, can we?"

"Feed me," she pouts. 

And so he does.


	13. Caresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could write Gillian and David cuddling and napping all day. Cheaper than therapy.

She replaces the open book on his lap with her body, her face daring him to comment anything. He doesn't, simply holds her there with one of his arms around her and lets her have her way with him. He gently strokes her back as she removes his reading glasses and sets them on the coffee table, along with the book. Almost immediately, he realizes she's not in the mood for sex. This is sleepy Gillian silently asking him for a cuddle, with the way she's lazily nuzzling his neck and curling closer to him. 

He tips both of them down until his side makes contact with the cushion of the couch, her head nestles on the crook of his right arm. She throw one of her legs over his, her hands roaming his broad chest.

"We lost a light in the bedroom," she murmurs, her voice slurred and slow.

"I'll get another," he cradles the nape of her neck as she rises up a little bit to kiss his jaw thank you, then settles back in his arms.

"You need a pillow or something?"

"I have everything I need right here," she replies, only half-awake. 

"Good. Sleep, baby." He smile, presses a kiss to her forehead, his nose buried in her hair and his breaths even out not long later. 

"My David," she mumbles into the quiet noon.


	14. Oxblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of it is Gillovny talking about Zoom calls, the other part is David being Gillian's private manicurist.

He stops typing on his computer to rest his eyes for a minute, listening to the sounds of the wind chime clinking by the front door, of Nelson snoring, of West and Piper baking together in the kitchen, and of Gillian’s laugh coming from upstairs. He looks at the ceiling and smiles to himself. That is her second Zoom call today, one she has been expecting. He’s glad she seems to be having a good time.

An hour later he walks into their room to find her still in bed, painting her toenails. He sits down next to her on the edge of the bed.

“How was the call?” he asks.

“Good,” she replies, “But I left early.”

“Why?”

She just shrugs, and he understands that she simply had a change of mood. He kisses her temple, then muses:

“Maybe we should do an X-Files Zoom call to raise money, I know people would sell their kidneys for that.”

She makes an uncertain "hmm", so he adds:

“No need to invite anyone else, just you and me. And we can sit face to face across the room, or maybe you stay here and I’ll go to the porch with my iPad and we’ll read our lines from the original scripts.”

This earns him a guffaw, which is exactly his intention.

“Or, next time you do another donate campaign, instead of choosing a random winner you just have to talk to this guy,” He points at himself and has the nerve to look smug at the idea. She giggles so hard he has to hold onto her legs to keep them from kicking around. This man. Her large, sexy, kind, funny, poetic man. The man who showed her their star charts comparison yesterday and declared that they belong together after all, the man who just told her to cheat on a Zoom call with him so she won’t have to talk to a stranger.

“You’re so weird,” she rubs his ear between her thumb and forefinger.

“But you love me anyway,” he tilts his head, reading her mind.

“That I do,” she looks down at her feet, still chuckling. 

★

He observes the polish spreads neatly onto her tiny toes, its oxblood red contrast with her pale skin. After a short silence, he taps her thigh two times with the back of his hand. She pauses, arches her brows in question without looking up. He gently takes the red nail polish bottle from her.

“Let me do it?”

She meets his eyes with a funny expression. “Sure. But I warn you, this is not the same as colouring Piper’s arts with crayons. And don’t spill it on me, it’s expensive.”

“This bottle, or your feet?” he chuckles.

“Smartass,” she swats him.

“Trust me, I know this stuff,” he pulls her feet into his lap and starts dipping the brush into the tiny jar, ignores her muttering that he’d only got his manicures done one time. 

She watches him like a hawk but has to admit he’s quite good at this, she might give him her top coat to do the job as well. 

“I miss your black nail polish,” he suddenly speaks.

“You still remember that? That was years ago.”

“It’s not that long,” he replies. “And I could never forget how powerful your fingers looked, wrapping around my neck on one of those nights. Wilding,” He doesn’t miss the tiny gasp she lets out before wiggling her newly-painted toes at his crotch, her lips form that predatory smile, as dangerous as her nails' colour. He growls deeply, put the bottle cap back in place before shoving his free hand inside the deep V of her dress. He thinks one of the reasons he likes these dresses so much is because of the easy access to her breasts that they provide him with. He tweaks the hard nipple that has been peeking through it the whole time, as his mouth attacks hers. She moans, instinctively presses herself against his greedy palm, but then raises a hand to his chest when he tries to kiss her down the mattress.

“You’ll stain the paint,” she explains between pants, touches his pouting lips with her thumb. “Later,” she promises, “I think I still have some black polish left, you can put it on for me, hmm?”

His smile tells her that it would worth the long wait for all the paint to dry, and she can’t help but feel a gush of wetness between her legs. And he knows it. With one last sweep of his tongue, he leans back and continues his previous job, his hands slightly shake in anticipation and he wills them to steady. Later.


	15. one single thread of gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny song fic, inspired by "invisible string" from Taylor Swift's latest album "folklore"

It's almost 10pm and he's sitting at the kitchen table with his guitar when he sees a white figure standing by the open windows by the sink.

"Fuck!" he jumps, then the figure also jumps. "Gilly, you scare the shit out of me!"

She laughs. "Sorry, shouldn't have worn a white sleeping gown and go for a walk in the garden at this hour."

"No shit," he deadpans, his heart still beats wildly. He didn't know she is out there. He's aware she needs her alone time almost every day and just lets her come to him whenever she wants. And here she is, looking like the most gorgeous ghost. She comes in through the kitchen door, the lacy hem of her gown floating around her mid-thighs. She drapes herself over the back of his chair, her arms cross at his neck. He rubs one of them and feels the night air from her skin touches his palm. She shivers.

"Are you cold?" he asks. "I think you left a cardigan in the common room. Want me to get it?"

"It's alright," she nuzzles his hair, "Tonight's a warm night." Before he gets to say anything, she adds. "Are you making a new song? I was going to walk past but then I heard you. It sounds lovely."

"Yeah, it is. But not mine, though." He pinches her cheek lovingly. "It's from Taylor Swift's latest album and-"

"Taylor Swift?" her eyebrows shoot skywards.

"What? She's really good," he blushes. "And as a musician who also writes story-telling songs, I can't help but admire her."

"Awww," she pokes his nose, "And?"

"And what?"

"You were saying something about her album and the song you played?"

"It's just...I feel really close to these songs," he explains, "And this song specifically makes me think of you, of us. If I didn't know better, I'd say she's singing about us," he chuckles.

"Now I'm curious," Gillian wrinkles her nose, "Do you have it in there?" She points at his phone on the table.

"Yeah, before I realized I'd bought the whole album. You'd love it," he reaches for it, has to squint a bit because he doesn't have his glasses with him, and after a short while their kitchen is filled with that lovely melody. She was nodding through the first verse when he suddenly stands up, holds his hand out towards her. Her stomach flips at his tilted head and half-smile, she doesn't know what to do other than accepts his offered hand.

He pulls her to him, wraps his arms around her silk-clad body, hers around his waist and locks her hands at the wrists. They start a slow dance, shifting from one foot to the other. While the second chorus is coming to an end and the song moves on to the bridge, she puts her head on his shoulder.

She feels his rumbling voice in her ears more than actually hears him singing, yet her heart clenches at the words. She knows what he means now, when he says the song reminds him of their story.

_String that pulled me out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar  
Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire  
Chains around my demons  
Wool to brave the seasons_

That string of them, stronger than most, stretched by distance and their odds but never weakened over time. It snaps right back into place whenever they are together, hard and spiky against the cruel world but warm and comfortable around them, leads them home to each other's arms. The right ones. 

_Time, wondrous time  
Give me the blues and then purple-pink skies  
And it's cool  
Baby with me_

She can sense that he is smiling at this part, wonders if he is thinking about when they finally, finally made it, as she does right now. And his contented sigh brings tears to her eyes, so she closes them and buries closer to him, grabs a handful of his shirt in her hand, then presses her open lips to the spot where his heart is beating steadily.

"I love you," her voice small and higher than normal because of all the emotions clogging her throat, and she almost laughs at herself. His only reply is lifting a hand to stroke her hair and hold her a bit tighter as he continues to sing the last few lyrics. 

_All along there was some invisible string  
Tying you to me_

They keep swaying in the kitchen after the song ends, then repeats because he already put it on loop, and ends, and repeats again.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not our native language, so pardon us for the mistakes.


End file.
